


εὔνοια

by ThisIsLightful



Category: Homestuck
Genre: A lot of cursing, Karkat is the leader of a rebellion, Karkat swears like a sailor, M/M, Other, War AU, a lot of this will be told through flashbacks, and Gamzee loves using motherfucker and bitching as we all know, cursing, feferi is the leader of another rebellion, humans on alternia au, it's not pretty or harmonious, pretty much just everyone curses terribly, rebellion AU, there is a lot of war, they team up by like chapter 2 but problems will occur between them later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsLightful/pseuds/ThisIsLightful
Summary: There is something more lurking behind the corners of the horizon. It niggles at their thinkpans. Claws up their throats and tips on their tongues. There is war lying in wait, crouching around every twist and turn. It will take great minds- so warped, so paranoid, so hurt, yet so ready- to overcome these obstacles.War waits for no man- or troll, for that matter- and now it is a death-match, a battle to see whose ideals will come out the victor.





	1. A Disaster Clown, an Asshole, and a Shouty Mutant Walk Into a Meeting...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This story will be, inevitably, terrible. However, criticism of the constructive kind is more than welcome! I will try my best to update consistently, but insecurity will likely grab me by the throat and close up all my words (and my windpipe), so sorry if updates aren't extremely frequent. Enjoy! (Also, if you're looking for quality fics, anything by TheLadySkyo is fantastic, and The Grand Voyage of Life is pretty cool, too.)

Quick=> Be The One In Danger!

You are, as aforementioned, the one in danger. Seriously, did anyone even bother to read that if they need it repeated again so soon? 

You recently received a missive. If you were anyone else, this wouldn't have been much of an issue, nor such a surprise. You are not, however, anyone else. You are Karkat Vantas, wanted revolutionary extraordinaire. Seeing your head on a pike would satisfy many, including- but not limited to- the merciless seadweller ruling over your world. So, when you received a letter claiming that someone was willing to help your cause- your followers were weakened and tired, exhausted by the challenges they have faced throughout their lives- you reluctantly decided that maybe this letter would lead you to a "revelation" and went to the designated area. 

After all, you were not a defenseless grub. You traced a scar that marred your forearm. Not anymore. 

You somewhat regret doing so- coming here, that is- for, towering above you, even while idly sitting down, a murder-clown's gander bulbs watched you with their hazy purple, half lidded curiosity. He bore his sharp fangs, yawning widely so as to show his gaping maw and chitinous windhole. This was a clusterfuck of bad and you were unsure if only metaphorical shit would be hitting the thresher. You'd probably be hitting the thresher. He shifted, and you tensed, readying your Sickelkind Specibus; you doubt you stood a chance in the bugwinged world you found yourself in. You were lucky if you would be culled quickly, you knew. 

"Relax, my invertebrother." The Subjuggulator leaned forward, his posture pole hunched over in a relax manner. "Ain't no motherfuckin' harm gonna come about the miracles you been whippin' up, my brother. You been mixing up miracles like some sort of wicked elixir of truth." He grinned at you. 

You wanted to strangle him: his smile dopey, his weapon stashed away- you weren't even a blip on his electromagnetic field, you weren't dangerous. And that's where he had you wrong. You would fight until the candy-red blood that your foolish thump-tortoise insisted on pumping could spill no more. {"I have dreams too... yes, I deserve to die." The Sermons reverberated in your head with renewed passion.} 

"Woah," the lanky troll stood from his rickety chair, strolling towards you, the very essence of calm. "Get your chill on, motherfucker. I ain't here to hurt nobody. Especially not you." 

He took a step forwards, and you flinched back. "Then what," head lowered, nubby horns in front of you, muscles tensing, "-do you want?" You barely managed to grit out the sentence, your eyes a glaring red- you have long since forgone the contacts, the illusion of anonymity was shattered long ago. 

He stepped forward, you did not try to back away this time. He hunched in on himself, spoke softer, in a seeming attempt at making you feel more comfortable around him. You held back a snort, this tactic was overused and you refused to let it work on you- not like last time, never again. "Brother, your miracles are a radiant thing, shining light on the dark where those who need it most hide. There's a glorious motherfuckin' sister who wants to help spread those motherfuckin' miracles 'cross this world, 'cross all worlds. She needs your help." he paused, seeming unsure. For a few moments, you could see how young he was, how young you both were. Neither of you could be more than 10 sweeps old, yet here you were. You did not prod him, did not snap, not like you wanted to; you couldn't when his anguish bladder was spilling dismay fluid, streaks of purple trailing down his face. "I-I need you, brother. Many trolls have been culled, needlessly." He snarled, biting at open air, and you remembered what caste he was. What he was. "My friends- motherfuckin' miracles in and of themselves, my scarlet-brother - have been fighting with a fervor that only those blessed by the Messiahs can, but they are all gentle-like, my brother. All mercy and hope and it's makin' them lose an awful much. I don't wanna be in a world where my bros gotta be fightin' all the time and where they lose that beautiful fuckin' miracle that makes them shine so bright, and I don't want this world to be so motherfuckin' hurtful about so many, you dig?" 

You crinkle your cartilaginous nub, reasserting your defensive stance, "As nice as that sounds," you drawl with all of the sarcasm that you can shove into your words, "I can't trust you. Not at the drop of a hat, fuckface. I'm not going anywhere with people I can't trust." 

His face lit up, "That's just the motherfuckin' thing, brother! We all up and have someone you trust! They've been workin' with us a long while. If that ain't the Messiahs alignin' our fates to create a spectacular motherfuckin' miracle, then I ain't know what is. It's a totally bitchin' thing that the Messiahs have gone and done for us." 

"Ah, yes, of course! How did I not fucking realize it? Of course you have one of my friends! Not captured, tortured, or even lightly maimed! Not even blissfully dead! Why, I think that I'm beginning to put together the fucking puzzle pieces! Oh yes, I think that ALL of my fucking friends are idiots and they're all in this goddamned WHATEVER it is of yours! Without informing me! Like a fucking cheese critter I suppose that I'll just hop on my way with you, without an ounce of evidence to even support a single word that you're saying! I boggle at past Karkat's sheer STUPIDITY. What a fetid, festering pile of shit I must have seemed to the world! My flagrant ineptitude is to be laughed at. The most moronic fucker to exist? It is I. He is me. I am the fucker. I-" You could have carried on for hours. Honestly, this was just a warm-up. You were too stunned by the fact that these people approached you- claiming to be aiming for the same thing, and then having the sheer audacity of sending in a highblood, a purpleblood of all castes, to negotiate; it all smelled too fishy to you- to start adding in extended metaphors, but you were gearing up to it. 

You were, rudely, interrupted by a lispy, "KK?" 

You cut off, turning around towards the voice of the friend you that had fucking died: Sollux-gogdamned-Captor. "You..."

"I'th okay, KK." his voice was the softest. The softest. It was he. 

"You.." you ran up to him; he opened his arms, preparing for a hug. You slugged him right in his fucking ignorance tunnel. You were angry. It was you. "YOU ASSHOLE!" You moved to hit him again, and he dodged. He might have been the softest, but you were the most jagged. A broken piece of glass, a rusted over sword.

"What the fuck, KK?!" He looked surprised. He shouldn't be. 

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" He should be eternally fucking grateful that you weren't aiming for his shame globes. "You absolute IGNORAMUS. You FUCKWAD. You sit there, gawking like a grub seeing someone culled for the first time! Skitter away on your little ass fucking grub legs, Sollux! Let the small fly-creatures find their doom in your shout sphincter!" 

"I-I wath gonna tell you, KK, I thwear! I jutht had to wait until-" 

"HA-FUCKING-HA. JOKES ON YOU, KARKAT. YOU THOUGHT ANYONE GAVE ENOUGH OF A SHIT ABOUT YOU TO EVEN LET YOU KNOW THAT THEY WEREN'T FUCKING DEAD?! YOU ARE THE LAUGHINGSTOCK, KARKAT, IT IS YOU. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOU WERE CONSIDERED AS A LAUGHSASSIN! YOUR FAILURE RATES AT EVERYTHING WERE SO RIDICULOUSLY HIGH, BUT THEY MIGHT LAUGH AT HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE UNTIL THEIR RESENTMENT CHUTES ARE SPITTING UP THEIR RAINBOW BLOOD." Your self loathing turned back towards Sollux, abruptly, like a roller coaster falling onto the wrong set of tracks, "DO YOU WANT A FUCKING POINTY-ASS GLAM BADGE? WRIGGLERS LIKE SHINY THINGS, I HEARD. GOOD ON YOU. GOOD ON FUCKING YOU. GONNA TELL ME 'EVENTUALLY'. TELL ME, SOL, IF THIS MEETING HADN'T HAPPENED, WHEN WOULD 'EVENTUALLY' EVEN FUCKING BE? IT'S A PRETTY VAGUE WAY OF DETERMINING TIME, MY friend." "friend"... It was said with such a betrayed tone that Sollux felt it battering at him, felt it more than a physical blow. 

"KK. Thith meeting wath alwayth gonna happen." he sounded unsure, you pressed on that in a way that stung you more than it could ever sting him. 

"How can you be so sure?" you kept your quiet rage. You were simmering fury. You were the crackle of an ember that would coalesce into a fire that consumed cities, falsities, betrayals, faster and stronger than a tsunami. You were a swirling of crimson and ambiguous grey- you would fester like an infection, slowly corrupt until suddenly you were the victor, until no longer could they even stumble out of bed; blind and fever ridden and begging for death. Yes, you would simmer. You calmed, forced yourself back into neutral. Betrayal was all too common when looking for people trustworthy enough to quiet their words like the sweetest, palest of moirails could quiet the tumultuous upset that would tear apart their partner, that would tear apart their cause. He moved to speak again, but you were suddenly too exhausted to deal with his shit excuses. Always leaving you behind. Just like everyone else. Even when you laid your life down for them; you laid your secrets bare and still they make a mockery of it. Of you. 

"Shut your protein chute, you shithive maggot fuckface. You can go suck on your hoofbeastmanure, for all I care." You turn towards the Subjuggulator: he looks apprehensive and sad, like he was hoping this would be a happy reunion. He probably thought it was. And for the briefest of moments it was. Until it wasn't. A silent corner of you wishes that it was, but you beat it into submission. You have no room for those who will turn on you, who will not use even their simplest of words for you. 

"Sorry for goin' and all gettin' you riled up there, brother. Wasn't none of my intention to do you any harm. I told you that, and still I-" he gnashed his teeth, and you only just noticed that his claws were digging into his arms, that he was practically emaciated, that only his own purple blood stained his clothes, that he looked tired and afraid. He felt familiar, like you should have known him, but nothing comes to mind. A pang of pity shot through you, and you elected to inspect that when you had the emotional capacity to flail about like the idiotic, screw up of a wriggler you really are. Sollux broods in the corner of the room, watching you with concerned eyes. 

"I get that." your voice was worn from yelling. "I'll go with you, but I make no promises." The fire in you hissed orange- sadness and weariness and falling down a spiral of color. {"I realize, I am different from you... My blood burns brightly for all to see. It is a flame of a revolution that you cannot ever hope to quell... infected by hate and corruption.." the words ring within you, they are singing with the music your blades make as they cut through air and skin alike.} 

The purple-blood smiles, "That's all anybody has the right to ask from you, brother." He extended a hand, looking in your eyes with a kindness that makes you want to run away- you're afraid you'll break it. Break it like you did Crabdad. "Karbro, you motherfuckin' miraculous miracle, I'm all up and bein' known as Gamzee." 

"Gamzee." the name tastes like mint, like a refreshing drink after trudging through the desert's harsh sun, and it dances upon your tongue. "It's nice to meet you, you fucking miraculous disaster." You clasp his prong, and the two of you give vicious yet not unkind grins at one another. This is a defining moment, and preciously you cradle it in your hand. Each new person is a different shade, a new word with unknown definitions, and they shall warp your own in some way. You wonder if this purple will drown out your red. You wonder if, by some miracle, the colors will blend into a hue never before seen, if the colors will bleed into each other until they are wrapped so protectively around the other that they fuse and Become one. 

You pointedly do not look at the psiioniic in the corner of the room, but instead watch the disaster of a purple-blooded troll with the closest approximation to trust you can bring yourself to give. You wonder if he will still think you're a miracle when he realizes how much of a failure you are. 

You do need to know one thing before going with this fucker, "I know Sollux is an asshole, but he's not a complete bumbling mess of an idiot, try as he might to make himself seem so." Out of the periphery of your vision, you see Sollux sink down further. Later, you will let him explain himself, but now you have something more important than either of you: your cause. "So I know that this organization has been thoroughly examined by his hacking skills, if nothing else. But I need to know: who the fuck runs this shit and what the fuck is their goal?"


	2. A Rocky Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your pan rots, it never quite grows back right.  
> But that's okay, because you can still do what you must.
> 
> (I like Sollux, I promise. Everything will be resolved eventually. It's a lot more complicated as it seems)

Be=> He Who Is Quietly Amazed.

Fuck that. You are not quietly awed, nor do you make an effort to hide it. You openly gawk at this shouty motherfuckin' miracle.

The thing about you is that you are always finding new miracles to lighten your world; miracles are hidden in every smile, breath, blade of grass, weapon. Miracles are in the blood. Yet, you find yourself beyond awed and taken aback by your newest miracle. Your breath is nearly taken away by this miraculous miracle of a troll: Karkat Vantas. Tales of threshecutioners, of the Sufferer, of pain are widely known throughout many a planet. But Karkat Vantas is a name that is stuck in the throats of the blasphemous, that is whispered like holy prayer to the motherfuckin’ Mirthful Messiahs when hope seems to be lost. His name has become a miracle. His candy red blood is a miracle; an echo of a troll who fought and Suffered and lost. He is the embodiment of miraculous happenings.

This miracle took your hand real gentle like in his own before, like he was ‘fraid to break you. Which is laughable- you can’t even break yourself much more. He used your words as to tighten the bonds of camaraderie you feel already overtaking you. He looks slightly confused at the level of comfort you display around him. You suppose he wouldn't remember you, it's your fault he doesn't, after all.

That you are a motherfuckin’ sappy fool is something that is obvious enough that you don’t even feel the need to berate yourself for so quickly becoming endeared by the angry, shouty, short troll who is facing an entire motherfuckin’ EMPIRE like it’s the only bitchin’ thing he can do.

You gotta respect a miracle like that, even if he’s real adorakillable. {“And so a righteous motherfucker does rise, does grasp, does look at his Messiah real truthful like. The Messiahs are masquerading as common trolls, as plants and creatures, spreading their miracles into every mortherfuckin’ thing. Every troll you meet is a miracle; and among our revered miracles, one troll is The Messiah. When you meet The Messiah, you will know, by the look in their eyes and the miracle of their touch. This motherucking spectrum we live on is a miracle. Let our Messiahs guide you. Let their hope invigorate you. Let their ash skin burn fire red again!” You remember the entire Book of Miracles; this piece came long before the Sufferer’s time. Even now, just meeting this miraculous miracle, you know: your Messiahs have come and blessed you with a chance to do their bidding, and shall your Chucklevoodoos turn on you if ever you do not give this motherfuckin’ miracle lilac- tender care and hope and royalty and humbleness wrapped into one.} 

“Fucking- Gamzee!” You are snapped out of your thought muddled thinkpan when Karbro jabs you in the side.

“That motherfuckin’ harshes, brother.” You would say that it hurts, but you are not prone to lies. Rather than looking weak, he looks adorabloodthirsty. You reckon he’s out for your blood, in the figurative manner, that is. Karbro ain’t no Rainbow Drinker, that you know for certain.

“Oh my gog! Gamzee!” He’s snapping his fingers in front of your face, lookin’ real irritated. You sink into yourself a little bit, physically curl into yourself as much as you can while you’re walking; you're headed for the door, the sun will be up in a few hours and you guys should all up and get your move on real quick.

“Sorry, Karbro. My thinkpan’s all twisted up from when I used to be about the sopor pie.” You twitch your prong, resisting the urge to rip-rend-tear-DESTROY IT MOTHERFUCKIN’ ALL on yourself with your claws. You can control yourself. You will not succumb to the Condesce’s call that is the Blood Rage and Blood Haze. You will not. You refuse. Never again.

Karbro all up and looks upset all of a sudden, like he wants to help you but can’t. You regret bringing up the sopor. You should have stayed silent. Make a joke of it, like you usually do. Like the joke they up and make of you. You are supposed to be a clown anyways, right? You were born so that people may laugh at you.

“Well, ‘least it all up and taught me how to make a mighty mean pie.” You bite your tongue when you’re about to let slip that your lusus would never have taught you because he was too busy being not there because you were a disappointment that didn’t deserve it. When Karbro still doesn’t look reassured, you ramble on and try to seem as loose and carefree and motherfuckin’ slow as you usually do, “I can make some for you sometime.” Karbro’s face goes a truly miraculous shade of red. You realize that you might sound like you’re flirting and amble on conversation-wise, knowing that this Miracle won’t shun your words because they sound not-right. “I’m the cook. I promise we’re all up and sopor free. Well, ‘cept for the ‘coons, ‘course. ‘Cuz no troll in the ship would be sleeping if we all up and let them get their Battle Dreams on, and that’d be mighty unproductive of a motherfucker, wouldn’t it?”

Regaining his footing- or rather, control over his yell-tubes - Karbro clears his throat loudly, “So, where the fuck are you going, Gamzee? Because I have no fucking clue and I swear if you get us lost-”

"KK, Gamthee knowth where he’th leading uth; he’th thurpristhingly competent for having an addled thinkpan.” Sol-bro ain’t meanin’ no harm, you know he’s probably just ribbin’ at you, but you still can’t help but smartin’ right where your anguish bladder is. Does he really have to go on about insultin’ you all casual like?

Karbro is righteous fury and indignation- as expected from a Messiah {“..those will try to tell a motherfucker that he ain’t got a motherfuck of what is a going and what is not. The miracle you feel will guide you. Messiahs hide in the most despondent of guises. Let shine us ruby, let shine us on our spectrum! Let not the Faithless determine the True Miracle. A miracle is hidden in every motherfuckin’ thing, so let us, the Faithful, preserve those precious miracles, regardless of whether or not others see them, too...”}. “Sol!” he sounds scandalized on your behalf. Is he… pale flirting with you? You have no motherfuckin’ clue, but you can’t help but appreciate the shade of ire that’s glowing in his eyes. “You speak for yourself, asshole! At least the guy with the so-called ‘addled thinkpan’ has enough THINK left in his PAN to TRY and REASON. Unlike SOME trolls I know!” Sollux reluctantly allows an apology- a fuckin’ bitch tittin’ miracle- to depart, and hangs mulishly in the periphery of your sight.

"Now," Karbro is all impatience and indignation, makes you up and feel like you've done something wrong. "You are going to tell me who in the blistering fuck runs this fucking mess-"

"Karkat." Sollux jumps in- does he think you cannot keep your secret-holding lips shut competently during a conversation? Likely. "KK. We can't just divulge whatever you want us to, KK."

Karbro looks downright murderous. He is leveling a full-blown Disappointed Glare at Sol-Bro, and Sol-Bro withers beneath it. "You will tell me if you want me to come with.

While your brother Sollux looks mighty concerned about this whole conundrum, you up and decide that priorities are a thing. "Feferi."

Sol-Bro looks at you, betrayed and angry yet oddly resigned like he predicted that your stupid ass couldn't handle itself, and shakes his head. Karbro purses his lips, considering, "Peixes?"

"Yup. Fish-Sis is tired of the Imperial Condescension and decided it was time to haul motherfuckin' ass." Karkat snorts, Sollux executes a facepalm x2 combo. You count those as wins. 

"There's still the whole problem of- oh, I don't fucking know- her installing herself as a fucking dictator to rule over us all? Gee, I wonder what problems that could POSSIBLY surface! Having a watered down version of a tyrant is still a fucking tyrant."

"KK. Thome of your thitty human friendth have probably uthed thith exprethion before: Rome wathn't built in a gogdamned day. Cool your titth, KK."

Before you could intervene, a ruby tint covered Karbro's face and he exploded. It was glorious. "SILLY ME. HOW COULD I FORGET? ROME WASN'T BUILT IN A FUCKING DAY? WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT!" Karbro spat at Sol-Bro's feet, "Rome wasn't perfect, you fuckwad, but it had elements of a democracy in it. Feferi undoubtedly is attempting to do good, but she has to instate democratic means in the fucking system! This isn't one of your fucking codes! You can't switch around the algorithms until they suit you! You gotta use what you already have- the fucking people of Alternia! They're all sick and tired and all too willing to slaughter each other for the sake of whatever cause they can throw themselves into!" He threw his hands wide, palms open. You watched with fascination. This is what it must be like when Karbro decides to get his sermon on. "You fucking disgrace! You wallow in self-pity and try to build up an empire that's GOOD, but you ignore the problems within your pathetic rebellion." Karbro narrowed his eyes: the yellow glowing eerily in the dark, the red burning into all {"A truth seeker is fire: the stars that the Messiahs motherfuckin' gifted to us. The stars are aflame, the Sun's bitchin' prowess burns all beneath its gaze- the Messiahs burn truth into us all. They motherfuckin' cast light onto the shadows, they peer within.."}.

There was a beat of silence. Two beats. Your blood-pushers are the only sound besides the hanging of baited breath. "You're fucking flushed for her." He sounds incredulous, but a dawning, horrified realization transforms his face. 

"KK! It'th not that- that'th not why-"

"Not why what, Sollux? Not why you fucking turned tail and ran?" Karbro strided up to the tall yellowblood, looking him right in his gander-bulbs. "You're a fucking barkbeast that I should have put the fuck down. I thought you were loyal, that you fucking cared! But you disappeared, and apparently your mind disappeared as well!" Karkat was tearing at his hair, stomping one of his feet. He looked ready to cry. You stared at Sollux: would he really do that? "I should have fucking made you leave the moment you told me about your shitty ass flush crush with Feferi when we were younger. But I thought you had fucking gotten over that. I'm going to work with her, Sollux, because I'm not an idiot. But if I have to, if she steps out of line, I'll fucking put her down. And you, too." Regret dripped from Karkat's tone like lime all up and oozing into an open wound. You wish you could help, but it wasn't your business to be knowing.

"If we're gonna be going," they started at the sound of your drawl, "then it's gotta be now. I'm motherfuckin' alright with waiting, but Fish-Sis ain't."

Silently, like a shadow, Karkat crept out the door with you. Sollux lingered far behind, visibly distressed.

"I'm not gonna fucking do everything Feferi says. I'm not her fucking slave and don't expect me to act grateful or anything when I get there." Karbro clenched his jaw and fists.

You smiled grimly, "I'm looking forwards to all up and seeing Sister Feferi taken down a peg or two. Don't get me wrong," you put your hands up in a display of innocence, "she's got a good blood-pusher pushing her motives and all, but she can get carried up in her own little wave, ya feel me, motherfucker? It'd be a miracle to see someone on equal ground as her."

Karkat gave a vicious grin, but it softened over time. You wondered if the cool sand and the dim moon helped lower his temper.

You wonder how long you're going to be able to witness this miracle before it burns out. You won't let it, him, you decide. You'll waste away before he does. Miracles like him need to be kept; you're a curse, and you hope that you don't end up snubbing out his miracles.

A little rock is thrown at your head. You turn and see a glowering Sollux. You sigh. This seemed fuckin' bitchtits at first, but now it's kinda dragging you all around. You have no idea what the problem is, but you hope it'll lighten up soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as evidenced, I am terrible at writing. This is barely being held together with Elmer's Glue. Sorry if you were expecting better. I have all these great ideas, but implementing them is a no-go.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated! I really hope that the one person curiously eyeballing this enjoyed this chapter! Also: this is kind of slow burn? But at the same time, it's not? This has to do partially with Chuckleevoodoos and time shenanigans, but yeah.


End file.
